


Making Progress

by Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 18:00:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4574349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An imagined extended scene in the middle of s3e4, “Blood and Money.” If you’ve seen the episode, I bet you can guess the spot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Progress

The knock on the door of 221B The Esplanade was only unexpected in that it came early in the day. Phryne answered the door herself, as Mr Butler was busy in the kitchen preparing dinner.

“Jack!” Her voice was delighted, as was her wide smile. “I didn’t expect you until later!”

Jack smiled slightly. “I’ve just come from the station. Archie Woods is in custody.” His expressive mouth moved into a slight frown. Both he and Mac had hated to lock Woods up. The man was already dealing with terrible scars from the war, both internal and external, and he didn’t need additional strife. But if he was a murderer, City South was the safest place for him.

Jack followed Phryne into the parlour, where she poured them both drinks. “I can’t interview him in this state.” Jack’s voice was regretful. “Doctor MacMillan’s given him something to calm him down.” The two of them crossed over to stand in the late afternoon sun of the bay window. She was so beautiful, Jack thought almost absently, most of his mind on their conversation. He almost didn’t notice as his eyes examined the way the sun illuminated her sharp cheekbones, her red lips, the glossy cap of her hair. 

Phryne’s response was quiet. “Poor man.” Jack could see that she too was thinking of the war, and what it had cost Archie Woods. She knew better than most what internal scars a war would leave—she had her own, he knew.

“I’ve asked for a comparison of the bayonet with Badger’s wound, but it doesn’t look good for Mr Woods,” Jack said. “If Badger was threatening to reveal his drug theft, he had an obvious motive.” Phryne gazed at him as he spoke, listening, but also cataloguing his features in the light. He really was handsome, she thought. All straightlaced and upstanding. The little crumple between his brows when he was thinking always made her want to smooth it away with her fingertips, and his eyes, so expressive, were nearly translucent—she fancied she could see all the way to his soul if she just looked hard enough.

On an indrawn breath, she said, “I wonder if Mary Madison is one of his customers? He delivered a parcel to her at the health fair.” That this was news to Jack only showed in the tiniest lift of his eyebrows. 

His mouth turned down for a moment in a considering sort of frown. “Hospital supplies?” he suggested. It was one possibility.

Phryne made a small, inarticulate noise. She supposed it could be, but… “She gave him a smaller package in return.” Phryne pursed her lips a little. “Maybe cash? Whatever it is, there’s something going on.”

Jack nodded. His eye was caught by the flapping of a torn bit at the neckline of Phryne’s blouse. He gestured to it, eyebrows drawing down a bit more. “What happened to your scarf?”

Phryne looked down, touching her blouse momentarily, as if she’d forgotten about the tear. “Oh. Archie Woods,” she said, her voice dismissive. She smiled a little, rolling her eyes. “Still, it’s better than puncturing my throat.” 

Jack felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. He’d known that Woods had threatened Phryne, had stabbed at her with that bayonet, but he hadn’t realized the man had come so close to causing her a serious wound. Mac had downplayed the event quite a bit, it seemed. He moved closer to Phryne and reached out to pull the torn piece aside, noting the scraped area on Phryne’s neck that aligned with it.

“Looks like he made an attempt,” he said, his voice rumbling a little lower than usual. His fingers would not let go of her scarf; of their own accord, they were stroking her neck, just below her injury. He looked up to meet Phryne’s eyes, now gone slightly heavy-lidded.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Phryne said, arching her neck a little to encourage him to pet her more. She was thankful that he wasn’t overreacting to this—Jack had a tendency to get a bit protective when he knew she’d been in danger.

Jack knew she wouldn’t want him to panic, now that the danger was over. So rather than acting on his urge to pull her into his arms and curse the man who’d damaged her, he decided to draw her closer more subtly, just for a moment.

“My mother used to have a sure-fire way to be certain that small injuries would heal quickly,” he said, a smile lurking around his lips.

“Really?” Phryne smiled too. She loved it when Jack was playful.

“Oh yes,” he murmured, and then he lowered his head and kissed her neck, right where the bayonet had scraped her skin. He pressed his lips to the little wound, tasting the heat of her skin. As he withdrew, he breathed in the scent of her, always so alluring.

Phryne’s breath caught. His mouth was warm and tender; he was so close she could hear the breath he took as his lips withdrew. He straightened, the weight of his hand warm against her shoulder where he continued to hold her scarf.

Phryne drew a long breath of her own. She only just managed to keep her hand from floating up to capture that kiss against her skin; the tingle of the contact still zinging down her body. Or perhaps throwing herself into his arms for a longer, more passionate kiss. This was promising, she thought. Jack needed to lead in this dance between them, and it seemed the waltz had begun.

With that thought foremost in Phryne’s mind, her smile was knowing and sultry. “I’m sure he’s not the first man who wanted to wring my neck.” She gazed up at Jack, and for once, he didn’t back away. Instead, he smiled his sideways smile. 

“No?” he asked, pretending surprise. 

It was true, of course. She was maddening. He could remember many times a man had attempted to subdue this woman, himself included, though his opinion had been undergoing a metamorphosis over the time they’d been investigating together. Where her insouciance and unwillingness to allow others’ rules to apply to her had once irritated him to no end even as it attracted him, he was now so thankful that she was in his life. She brought a burst of life and light to his drab and dreary days, and he didn’t know what he’d do without her. 

He held Phryne’s eyes, fingers still lightly stroking her neck, as he reveled in her smile. He hoped that, someday, if she was willing, the tension between them would lead them into a more intimate relationship. Maybe he should just lean in now and—

When Dot bustled into the room, apologizing, Jack stepped back and cleared his throat, his fingers finally disengaging from Phryne’s neckline. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but Phryne hadn’t pushed him away, nor made a teasing remark. He thought he’d seen a spark of desire in her eyes, even, as they held, suspended, in that moment after his kiss. Perhaps he was making progress after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this works, y'all! It's been rattling around in my head for a while now. Let me know if something seems out of place, but in my head, the genius editors of this show could easily have trimmed my new bits out of this scene. :)


End file.
